aobtd

A thousand and one
Dead and dying souls
Live under my bed
They think I’m a cruel bitch for not feeding them
They don’t realize
I have nothing to give
I’ve paid my debts
I’ve fought my wars
I’ve died and risen again and I’ve
Loved no one
Pricking my finger on the spindle
All my blood would run dry
and I would sleep forever
Melting into a form transparent, weightless
And certainly not human
My dying souls could see right through me
Afterwards, they’ll wonder if I was even there at all

5.10.10